Random Crack Fics!
Title: Prey
Author: PrettySirenx
Rating: R (to be safe)
Genre: humor, angst, lust (if that's a genre, which I say it is)
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes.
A/N: Unbeta'd random writing.
Claire pulled Sylar longingly into her and breathed onto his lips. “You once said I would love you.”
Sylar’s pulse quickened and he swallowed hard. He was aching to touch her back, to guide her hands down his chest and to his zipper.
“Not like this.”
“I want to love you, Sylar. Tonight.”
He looked into her green eyes, so big and pretty, and wondered if she was, perhaps, under some strange spell. This wasn’t Claire; at least it wasn’t the Claire he knew. The Claire he knew would be grinding her teeth and promising to kill him. The Claire he knew would never be pressing herself into him. The Claire he knew would never kiss him like she was doing at that exact moment. Her tongue flicked into his mouth, caressing his. His knees turned to pudding and he was officially intoxicated.
It was pathetic. She was just a girl, a child. She was only just barely legal and he, a grown man, shivered each time she touched him like a horny schoolboy. He was the one who was supposed to be in control: he was a sociopath, a serial killer - he wasn’t supposed to be compromised…ever.
And yet he was. He was pinned against the wall moaning into the cheerleader’s mouth as she grabbed his cock through his pants.
“Claire,” he said desperately, “Claire, I love you; you don’t love me. I could never work.”
“You’re sexy when you think too much,” she purred, nibbling his ear.
That’s when it happened: in that instant, he regained control so quickly it made his head spin. He telekinetically ripped each stitch of her clothing, one by one until she stood completely naked in the dark alleyway they were in. Her clothes lay scattered about and she tensed.
“What are you doing?” she asked. A smile was still on her lips, but her eyes darkened; she was confused.
“Making you feel as vulnerable as you’re making me feel,” he said, his hallmark menacing tone rolled off his lips effortlessly. “You’re preying on me, because it’s easy.”
She blinked at him and her body language grew self conscious.
“That’s not the reason, you jerk,” she said, finding her voice as she shoved him hard in the chest. “Did you stop and think maybe I want to love you? Maybe I want to become attached to the one constant in my life. Did that ever cross your mind?”
It hadn’t and Sylar felt like a ridiculous moron as he glanced over at the shreds that were once were clothes.
“We can give it another go?” he offered, running his hand gently across her smooth cheek.
“You’ve killed the mood.”
“But,” he protested as she shoved him away.
“Sorry. The mood’s been killed!” she said, covering her body up with her arms as best she could.
Sylar sighed, took off his coat, and placed it around her.
“I’ll walk you home,” he said. He tried to slip his arm under hers as she tied the belt of his coat tightly around her waist, but she shrugged him off.
Sylar could tell it would be a long night.
Title: Project Sylaire
Author: PrettySirenx
Rating: R (to be safe)
Characters: Sylar/Claire, Mohinder
Genre: Crack. Complete and utter crack.
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes.
A/N: Unbeta'd random writing. Also, implied character death!
“What do you think it is?”
“I don’t know, but I’m certainly not going to touch it. You touch it.”
Sylar poked the monstrosity with a stick. It looked like a gooey brain, only slightly more liquid. It made a sound when he poked it.
“Ew!” Claire squirmed; Sylar smirked as she buried her face into his arm. “I was wrong. Don’t touch it.”
They were in Mohinder’s laboratory within the new Company headquarters. Claire had been forbidden from ever going inside; forbidden things always intrigued her, which was why she brought Sylar. He was forbidden from entering as well. In fact, he was forbidden from even being around her. That made their little adventure all the more adventurous.
Aside of that, she really had grown to simply like being around him; going to a forbidden laboratory together was the perfect pseudo-date and a great way to work up to the real thing, she reckoned.
Sometimes, Sylar thought she only hung around him to piss Daddy off. However, Daddy didn’t know about their little romp that evening. And he certainly wouldn’t know about the romp they would have even later that evening in her dorm room.
“What do you think would happen if I drank this?” he asked, holding up a vial of yellow liquid. It looked just like piss, except slightly more pretty.
“You’re such a boy,” she laughed. “Why don’t you drink it and find out?”
“Bottoms up, then,” he said and he downed the yellow stuff in one gulp. Then his eyes went wide and he screamed.
Claire stopped laughing immediately and covered his mouth.
“Do you want to get us caught?”
“It burns,” he said. “And I can’t see!”
“What burns?”
“It,” he said gesturing at his manhood as he bent double. “And my eyes have gone all gray.”
“You shouldn’t have drunk it,” Claire said, shaking her head (of course, Sylar couldn’t see that).
“You TOLD me to,” he said miserably, collapsing onto the floor.
“You’re probably just having an allergic reaction,” Claire said. “Milk sometimes helps that. I’ll look for some.”
She walked over to what she thought was a refrigerator. Instead, it was a file cabinet. She would’ve closed it back up and walked away if she hadn’t seen a file labeled, in big bold letters, “PROJECT SYLAIRE”. She opened the file.
“They’re trying to impregnate me with your sperm!” she said in horror.
“What?!” Sylar managed to stop rolling around on the floor long enough to say.
“It’s all here,” she said, shoving the file under his nose. “Oh, that’s right. You’re blind.
I’ll read it to you. It says: 'Three failed attempts to impregnate Bennett with the sperm procured from Gray. Attempts at creating super race futile thus far.'”
She shut the file up angrily.
“So that’s why Angela has been making me go see Mohinder for my gynecology visits once a month. I thought it was fishy, him not being a gynecologist and all, but this just confirms my suspicions!” then she grabbed Sylar’s chin, forcing him to look at her (except he couldn’t, really). “How, pray tell, did he even get a hold of your sperm?”
“He told me that he needed volunteers to donate sperm for a study he was doing. I thought it was funny when he gave me a picture of your face to wack off to, though.”
“You wacked off to a picture of my face?”
“I’m a man!” he protested, massaging his aching junk. “Anything does it, really. Face, breasts, arm - it really doesn’t matter.”
“Arm?” Claire said.
“I’m still in immense pain here,” he said as beads of sweat dripped down his brow. “What’s happening to me?”
“You’ve ingested the maximum strength fertility formula I’ve been working on for you,” Mohinder said stepping breezily into the room. “It wasn’t exactly intended for human consumption just yet. I was still working out the kinks, as it were.”
“Kinks?” Sylar said. “My penis is on fire and you call that a kink!”
“You were going to feed him fertility drugs?” Claire asked, clearly disturbed. “Sylar’s impotent?”
“I thought so at first,” he said. “As it turned out, there’d been a mix up. I mislabeled his sperm. I was accidentally trying to fertilize you with Peter’s, except it didn’t stick, since he’s your uncle. Nature’s intelligent like that.”
Claire reached for the nearest vial of something and threw it at his head, knocking him unconscious to the ground. Sylar rose up onto his elbows and sliced Mohinder’s forehead.
“Fucking bastard,” he grumbled.
Author: PrettySirenx
Rating: R (to be safe)
Genre: humor, angst, lust (if that's a genre, which I say it is)
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes.
A/N: Unbeta'd random writing.
Claire pulled Sylar longingly into her and breathed onto his lips. “You once said I would love you.”
Sylar’s pulse quickened and he swallowed hard. He was aching to touch her back, to guide her hands down his chest and to his zipper.
“Not like this.”
“I want to love you, Sylar. Tonight.”
He looked into her green eyes, so big and pretty, and wondered if she was, perhaps, under some strange spell. This wasn’t Claire; at least it wasn’t the Claire he knew. The Claire he knew would be grinding her teeth and promising to kill him. The Claire he knew would never be pressing herself into him. The Claire he knew would never kiss him like she was doing at that exact moment. Her tongue flicked into his mouth, caressing his. His knees turned to pudding and he was officially intoxicated.
It was pathetic. She was just a girl, a child. She was only just barely legal and he, a grown man, shivered each time she touched him like a horny schoolboy. He was the one who was supposed to be in control: he was a sociopath, a serial killer - he wasn’t supposed to be compromised…ever.
And yet he was. He was pinned against the wall moaning into the cheerleader’s mouth as she grabbed his cock through his pants.
“Claire,” he said desperately, “Claire, I love you; you don’t love me. I could never work.”
“You’re sexy when you think too much,” she purred, nibbling his ear.
That’s when it happened: in that instant, he regained control so quickly it made his head spin. He telekinetically ripped each stitch of her clothing, one by one until she stood completely naked in the dark alleyway they were in. Her clothes lay scattered about and she tensed.
“What are you doing?” she asked. A smile was still on her lips, but her eyes darkened; she was confused.
“Making you feel as vulnerable as you’re making me feel,” he said, his hallmark menacing tone rolled off his lips effortlessly. “You’re preying on me, because it’s easy.”
She blinked at him and her body language grew self conscious.
“That’s not the reason, you jerk,” she said, finding her voice as she shoved him hard in the chest. “Did you stop and think maybe I want to love you? Maybe I want to become attached to the one constant in my life. Did that ever cross your mind?”
It hadn’t and Sylar felt like a ridiculous moron as he glanced over at the shreds that were once were clothes.
“We can give it another go?” he offered, running his hand gently across her smooth cheek.
“You’ve killed the mood.”
“But,” he protested as she shoved him away.
“Sorry. The mood’s been killed!” she said, covering her body up with her arms as best she could.
Sylar sighed, took off his coat, and placed it around her.
“I’ll walk you home,” he said. He tried to slip his arm under hers as she tied the belt of his coat tightly around her waist, but she shrugged him off.
Sylar could tell it would be a long night.
Title: Project Sylaire
Author: PrettySirenx
Rating: R (to be safe)
Characters: Sylar/Claire, Mohinder
Genre: Crack. Complete and utter crack.
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes.
A/N: Unbeta'd random writing. Also, implied character death!
“What do you think it is?”
“I don’t know, but I’m certainly not going to touch it. You touch it.”
Sylar poked the monstrosity with a stick. It looked like a gooey brain, only slightly more liquid. It made a sound when he poked it.
“Ew!” Claire squirmed; Sylar smirked as she buried her face into his arm. “I was wrong. Don’t touch it.”
They were in Mohinder’s laboratory within the new Company headquarters. Claire had been forbidden from ever going inside; forbidden things always intrigued her, which was why she brought Sylar. He was forbidden from entering as well. In fact, he was forbidden from even being around her. That made their little adventure all the more adventurous.
Aside of that, she really had grown to simply like being around him; going to a forbidden laboratory together was the perfect pseudo-date and a great way to work up to the real thing, she reckoned.
Sometimes, Sylar thought she only hung around him to piss Daddy off. However, Daddy didn’t know about their little romp that evening. And he certainly wouldn’t know about the romp they would have even later that evening in her dorm room.
“What do you think would happen if I drank this?” he asked, holding up a vial of yellow liquid. It looked just like piss, except slightly more pretty.
“You’re such a boy,” she laughed. “Why don’t you drink it and find out?”
“Bottoms up, then,” he said and he downed the yellow stuff in one gulp. Then his eyes went wide and he screamed.
Claire stopped laughing immediately and covered his mouth.
“Do you want to get us caught?”
“It burns,” he said. “And I can’t see!”
“What burns?”
“It,” he said gesturing at his manhood as he bent double. “And my eyes have gone all gray.”
“You shouldn’t have drunk it,” Claire said, shaking her head (of course, Sylar couldn’t see that).
“You TOLD me to,” he said miserably, collapsing onto the floor.
“You’re probably just having an allergic reaction,” Claire said. “Milk sometimes helps that. I’ll look for some.”
She walked over to what she thought was a refrigerator. Instead, it was a file cabinet. She would’ve closed it back up and walked away if she hadn’t seen a file labeled, in big bold letters, “PROJECT SYLAIRE”. She opened the file.
“They’re trying to impregnate me with your sperm!” she said in horror.
“What?!” Sylar managed to stop rolling around on the floor long enough to say.
“It’s all here,” she said, shoving the file under his nose. “Oh, that’s right. You’re blind.
I’ll read it to you. It says: 'Three failed attempts to impregnate Bennett with the sperm procured from Gray. Attempts at creating super race futile thus far.'”
She shut the file up angrily.
“So that’s why Angela has been making me go see Mohinder for my gynecology visits once a month. I thought it was fishy, him not being a gynecologist and all, but this just confirms my suspicions!” then she grabbed Sylar’s chin, forcing him to look at her (except he couldn’t, really). “How, pray tell, did he even get a hold of your sperm?”
“He told me that he needed volunteers to donate sperm for a study he was doing. I thought it was funny when he gave me a picture of your face to wack off to, though.”
“You wacked off to a picture of my face?”
“I’m a man!” he protested, massaging his aching junk. “Anything does it, really. Face, breasts, arm - it really doesn’t matter.”
“Arm?” Claire said.
“I’m still in immense pain here,” he said as beads of sweat dripped down his brow. “What’s happening to me?”
“You’ve ingested the maximum strength fertility formula I’ve been working on for you,” Mohinder said stepping breezily into the room. “It wasn’t exactly intended for human consumption just yet. I was still working out the kinks, as it were.”
“Kinks?” Sylar said. “My penis is on fire and you call that a kink!”
“You were going to feed him fertility drugs?” Claire asked, clearly disturbed. “Sylar’s impotent?”
“I thought so at first,” he said. “As it turned out, there’d been a mix up. I mislabeled his sperm. I was accidentally trying to fertilize you with Peter’s, except it didn’t stick, since he’s your uncle. Nature’s intelligent like that.”
Claire reached for the nearest vial of something and threw it at his head, knocking him unconscious to the ground. Sylar rose up onto his elbows and sliced Mohinder’s forehead.
“Fucking bastard,” he grumbled.